


Level 4 Emergency

by stifledlaughter



Category: Friends (TV)
Genre: Bisexuality, Gen, bisexual chandler bing, father/son relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 05:31:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7301410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stifledlaughter/pseuds/stifledlaughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I was always worried I’d end up like you. That one day, I’d be with someone, and think it was happiness, and then realize it never was, and then leave.” <br/>“That won’t happen to you.” <br/>“How do you know?”<br/>-------<br/>Chandler confronts his father about his fears on being bisexual after his childhood abandonment. <br/>(Bisexual Chandler, roughly set Season 4)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Level 4 Emergency

**Author's Note:**

> So I can't remember if Chandler's Dad changed their name or not, it's been a while since I watched season 6/7, or if their pronouns had changed (I believe they used he??? Please correct me if I'm wrong) and I looked up the name in Wikipedia and it was Charles, so I went with that. I don't think it was clear or not in the show if Charles identified as trans or not.   
> I have a lot of feelings about Chandler Bing possibly being bisexual, and how it could have been in the show. So here we are.
> 
> Hoping to make this a series of drabbles, we'll see where it goes!

They stood across from each other in the hotel room. Scattered coffee grains, wet from the machine, spilled across the black plastic desk. Some of the grains had dropped onto the white paper pad, smearing a dark stain across the white front page.

When Chandler had received the call from his father that he was in town for the night attending a convention, and that he would really like to see his son, he hesitated at first. Normally he ignored these, but... some thoughts had been eating away at him after a particularly rough Thanksgiving, and he needed to air it out.

But now, standing in the room, the silence yawning between them like an abyss, he said the first words that tumbled out of his mouth, awkward and ungainly. 

“I was always worried I’d end up like you.”

The words hung heavy in the air as Charles looked down at the coffee grounds, rubbing his finger into one, smearing it across the white page.

“That one day, I’d be with someone, and think it was happiness, and then realize it never was, and then leave.” Chandler’s voice shuddered, and Charles resisted the urge to walk across the room, grip his son, assure him that it wouldn’t happen. He knew even getting Chandler in the hotel room was pushing it, so he held back. 

“That won’t happen to you.”

“How do you _know_?” snapped Chandler, the anger of years of self-doubt and worry cresting over, crashing against his restraint. “I’ll be years down the road, and then one day-“

“I never loved women but had convinced myself I could. Your mother and I- we did what we thought we should do, and she never loved being monogamous- we only fit because we were told to fit that way. But you know yourself far better than I did at your age.” Charles brushed the grains with his fingers softly, making swirl patterns with the dark granules.

“I don’t know myself at all. I’m at a job I hate, haven’t been able to hold down a relationship without it just collapsing, and the only thing I have is my friends, and my duck and chick-“ Right then, his phone buzzed, a quacking sound which was Joey’s pre-recorded ringtone. Chandler grabbed it out of his pocket, flipping it open and muttering, “If it’s not a level 4 emergency, Joe, I can’t deal with it right now.”

“It’s only a level 3, unless you really need that blue shirt that was drying on the shower rack for work tomorrow,” confirmed Joey, with some panicked squawking in the background and the sound of Monica screeching “It is EVERYWHERE!!!”

Chandler rolled his eyes and snapped his phone shut, turning back to his father, who was smiling. “What?”

“You have your friends. You don’t realize how important it is. When I came out, I lost nearly everyone. Everyone sided with your mother, and I was left with a son who hated me and friends who suddenly weren’t there.”

“Mine wouldn’t do that,” Chandler said automatically, thinking of how everyone had rallied around Rachel and Ross after the breakup, everyone supporting the two in their own way through the confusion.

“Whether or not you find a woman or a man to love, in the end, you realized this part of you earlier than I did. And that’s the key.”

Chandler opened his mouth, the words on the edge of his tongue. His fears, his love breaking out of the box he had shoved it in for years, never knowing if he could forgive his father for both leaving and for making him fear what he could become.

“I don’t want to be alone,” Chandler said hoarsely, his words cracking and shuddering with sadness.

His phone rang again, and his father quietly said, “You should get that. It could be a level 4.”

Chandler let it go for another two rings, finally flipping it open to hear “LEVEL 5 LEVEL 5 CHANDLER COME HOME-“ and then the crashing of pots and pans and Phoebe shouting “CATCH THE DUCK MONICA, CATCH HIM BEFORE-“ and then the phone went silent.

“Go help your friends,” said Charles, looking up from his coffee ground designs. “And remember what I said. You started your journey long before I did. That makes the difference.”

Chandler grabbed his wallet and keys from off of the table, slipping them into his pocket, unsure of how to end this. Looking up, he stepped forward for a hug, but knew that he wasn’t there yet. “Have a good flight… Dad.”

Charles nodded, and Chandler left the room, the quiet click of the hotel door locking behind them the last sound between them.

\----------------------------

Back at the apartment, two hours later, the duck and chick were safely sedated, various shirts and shower curtains thrown out, and an exhausted set of six adults were sprawled out over couches. The room was comfortably warm and quiet.

“Joey… if you ever give the birds feed with high fructose corn syrup in the mix again… I will murder you,” said Monica softly as she lolled her head back from its position on Rachel’s thigh.

“I know, I know,” said Joey, who was resting against Phoebe’s back. “Hey, Chandler, how was seeing your friend?”

Chandler lifted his head from its comfortable position on Pheobe’s stomach and paused for a moment. “Good. Yeah. It went fine.”

Ross sighed and checked his phone. “It’s late. I’ve got Ben tomorrow, does anyone want to meet us at the swings in Central Park around 10?”

“I’ll bring chicken salad sandwiches,” offered Monica darkly.

“Hey!” said Joey, alarmed. “Not when they can hear you!”

Rachel looked down at Joey. “Hey mister, they need to be warned. I haven’t had duck confit for a while. Monica, you still got that French cookbook Richard gave you?”

Joey’s jaw dropped, and as the bickering continued, Chandler closed his eyes, a smile crossing his lips.

He would be okay.

No matter what road he walked down, he knew it for sure.

He would not be alone.

 


End file.
